Revenge Is Coming
by Druekee
Summary: HIghly based on the events in Dethcamp when Magnus was kicked out of the band. Vague N/P. (Theory based). Rated for mentions of blood.


The harsh, red light that dripped across Nathan's body created a dramatic scene. His body lay splayed across the sheets, hand gripping his shoulder in protection. His mind was awake, and swimming with fear, anger, and above all else, worry. Magnus was a hard person to work with, and if he wasn't so talented then the band would've already knocked him off. But, tonight was the last straw. Stabbing someone was, well, illegal mostly, but also cruel and uncalled-for. If any of the rest of them had done something like that without regret, then yeah, they would've been knocked off too.

Regardless, Magnus was losing his mind. Nathan's skin squirmed just thinking about the horrible things he was probably doing in the main room. Pickles had talked to the man a few hours earlier after they had officially voted him off, about when he would pack his shit up and go, and what he would take with him. Magnus seemed pretty pissed then, judging by the muffled screaming and cursing he heard from the room over, but it only got worse after Pickles had checked in with Nathan and told him that he was going to sit with the boys. For the past few hours Nathan had heard undecipherable yelling and things being knocked over, obviously Magnus was having a hissy fit. Nathan could only pray that he didn't destroy any of their band equipment, because that shit was fucking expensive.

Sighing softly and closing his eyes, Nathan willed himself to get some rest until that morning, or at least until Magnus finally left.

In the room over sat Skwisgaar, Murderface and Pickles, the three of them perched on the two fold out couches that Skwisgaar and Murderface slept on. The air was tense and worried, with the background noise being Magnus' yells and items being noisily thrown about. Pickles was only there because of Magnus' disorderly behavior, as he slept in the same bed as Nathan on most nights. Tonight was hard for all of them, and watching Skwisgaar hang his head and try to discreetly wipe away his tears was just too upsetting for words. They were all scared about Magnus, and for Nathan, and hell, for all of them.

"P-Pickle," Skwisgaar choked out and lifted his head, displaying his shaking shoulders as he stared with watery eyes at the drummer. Pickles stood up, moving to sit next to Skwisgaar on the couch and offered his hand, unsurprised when Skwisgaar gripped the hand and held it with all his strength. Pickles then prompted him to continue, staring at the blonde with worried eyes.

"It ams goingks to be okay, ja? We'll be okays?" Skwisgaar said, his lower lip quivering. Murderface sighed angrily in the background, his eyes rolling in mock indignation as he waited impatiently for the positive answer that he knew Pickles would say. They'd been hearing Magnus throw shit around in the main room for two hours now, and luckily enough he didn't try to get back in their bedrooms either. Murderface had no clue as to what he would've done if Magnus had tried attacking him, or anyone else, really. But, he still wanted to be reassured, even if he knew it was a fabrication. Hearing positive words from someone who'd been through shit was something he really needed right now.

"Yeah, of course. We'll jest let him get it outta his system, and tomorrow mornin' we'll see the damage, all right, guys?" Pickles said, smiling gently at Skwisgaar and then turning his head to give Murderface a nod and a slightly stronger smile. Despite outward appearances, the one who was in most fear was Murderface.

Eventually, the sounds emanating from the main room gradually faded away into nothing. Pickles could even distinctly head the door open and close several times, as if Magnus was taking his stuff with him in multiple trips. Then, all the noise stopped. After about half an hour of silence, Pickles told the boys to try to get some rest until the morning, and that he was going to bed too. Murderface nodded his head and crawled onto his bed, wrapping himself up in a little burrito with the sheets. Skwisgaar merely stared at Pickles sadly, his face still streaked in past tears. Pickles smiled at the blonde boy, gripping his hand with both of his own and staring into his eyes resolutely.

"It's over," Pickles said, smiling as Skwisgaar's lower lip quivered and eyes watered slightly. He then gave a wet smile, squeezing Pickles' hand and nodding. Pickles smiled back, letting go of his hand after a few seconds and watching as Skwisgaar crawled into his bed and looked back out at him, giving a shaky goodnight. Pickles made sure to keep one light on in the room for them as he left, shutting the door behind him.

Walking into the hallway, Pickles cautiously looked around, straining his ears for any small noise that might be coming from the main room. When he heard nothing, Pickles quietly walked into the main room through the back door, instantly noticing a rather horrific smell that permeated his senses upon entry, better known as the stench of blood. Pickles could feel his breath coming out in short puffs, pupils widening in fear. Just what had Magnus done? Walking in further, Pickles swung his head each direction, trying to see where the smell was coming from.

Staring at the mess of a living room, Pickles felt his heart drop. He stumbled forward, his mind racing with fear as he flipped his head forward to look at more of the damage. His drum kit was thrown across the floor, in various pieces but no visible damage, although the same can't be said for Skwisgaar's guitar, whose neck was ripped off. Pickles brought a hand up to his face, staring at the damaged equipment and amps thrown around the room and in places where they really shouldn't have been. He also noticed something that made his entire heart drop, something that elicited a barely concealed gasp and nervous sweat. A message saying the mysteriously ominous:

"REVENGE IS COMING."

It was then that Pickles skidded on his heels, trying to run to Nathan as quickly and quietly as possible. There was blood. There was a message in blood. Magnus was going to kill them, Magnus was going to kill them, Magnus was going to kill them.

Pickles rushed into his and Nathan's room, shutting the door behind him and watching Nathan's still form with crazed eyes, his body shaking in fear. Scrunching his eyebrows together, Pickles sighed, trying to relax himself. If Nathan could lie calmly in bed, then Pickles could try to relax enough to speak coherent words.

"Nathan, I saw somethin'. There's blood on the walls. The drum set, she's in pieces. And Skwisgaar's guitar is unfixable. Nathan! The amps are in weird places, I don't know how the hell he did that! And just, " Pickles stopped, watching Nathan shift his arm, still facing the opposite direction. He seemed pretty content to just lie there. Pickles took a deep breath, feeling his face droop in acceptance.

"Dude, you need to come check this out." Suddenly, Nathan's eyes opened wide, his body quickly moving and mind fully comprehending the details of what was going on. That tone that Pickles had just used, the one that sounded like he was fighting back sobs and screams… that was what got him up. He knew there must've been something really fucked up out there to make Pickles get that upset. Flipping the covers off himself, Nathan jumped up from the bed and followed behind Pickles as they walked into the living room.

What Nathan saw was shocking, the disarray and pure damages taken would be very expensive to fix. They really didn't have the time or money for this. Nathan opened his mouth to gripe to Pickles about it before he noticed Pickles' frantic pointing. And then it hit him like a ton of bricks. His outer self was relatively calm but after reading the statement over a few times he started shaking slightly. Then, all of his thoughts came tumbling out of his mouth.

"What are we going to do about Murderface and Skwisgaar, they're just kids! If Magnus finds either of them without one of us there, what'll happen to them?" Nathan asked frantically, his usual man-of-few-words nature falling apart as he realized the true extent of the situation and then some. Pickles lifted up his hands, gripping Nathan's own and taking comfort in the pulse that was increasingly present in his palms.

"Nate, yer just a kid too. Yer not even worryin' about yerself," Pickles said, his eyes staring deeply into Nathan's own. Nathan let out a puff of air, glaring slightly at the drummer but not parting their hands.

"I don't need to worry about myself, I could murder him. But-" he was interrupted by Pickles burying his body in Nathan's toned chest and stomach.

"It's okay to be scared, but we don't have to be. We'll be okay, alright?" Pickles said, trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince Nathan. Truthfully, the shorter man was scared for his life as much as Skwisgaar and Murderface would be tomorrow when they saw the message for themselves. But he wanted to comfort Nathan, as he was only a kid.

Nathan nodded in response, his hands parting from Pickles' to wrap around his lower back, chin resting on Pickles' shoulder. Pickles in turn buried his face in the gap between Nathan's pecs, relishing in the sound of his heartbeat and the feel of his strong arms. The harsh, red light radiated from the lamp, highlighting their features and shading an odd mood on the night. A few rooms over rested Skwisgaar and Murderface, dreaming vaguely comforting dreams. Tomorrow morning they would wake to a horrific sight and a significantly less frazzled Nathan and Pickles. But tomorrow felt so far away, and both men would spend much more time wrapped in the other's embrace. It was much more comfortable that way.


End file.
